The Adventures of Fantine
by LiquidAutumn
Summary: A really bad retell of Les Miserables in a kind of RPG-ish setting. With swords.
1. Chapter I The Bounty Hunter

It would not be until after evening for Fantine to reach the city of Porthos. For the present, the day was hot and heavy, and the journey long, relentless. Even the map she held was wet with sweat oozing from her palm.

"How many more fucking hours till I get there?" Groaned the young bounty hunter. "Wouldn't any of my brothers like to see me now, several miles into the heat of the desert plains, and not a village in sight? I say, by Jesu Maria, I'll die of dehydration before I see anything CIVILIZED."

She untied the water skin from her belt, her mind swarming with curses of her foolish insistence to walk the path of a chivalrous bounty hunter, whose job, she always believed, was to protect the children, aid the widows, assist the weaker vessels, slay the wicked and pick up lots of tasty treasure along the way.

Unfortunately, her perverted but sober sensei did not share her excitement.

"The path of such an occupation is flowered with thorns and bristles," he whispered. "You must purchase the crown of glory with labour, wits, skill, and most disgusting of all- a heart of gold. Which is why I insist you marry me instead. It's so much easier and beneficial for everyone!"

"Goddamn pervert," she muttered, and put the water skin to her lips. "Ahhhhh, fuck, it's empty. Well, I guess I have to control my thirst."

The sun shifted westwards; if Fantine had not the many years of intense endurance training, she would've collapsed long ago. In the desert, as soon as you stop moving, it's all over. You would never want to move again, and that'll be the end of you. Fantine shivered when she heard stories of skeletons found in deserts, still desperately trying to crawl on in hope of finding a fantastical oasis.

But she was on the outskirts of the desert, still many, many miles away from the heart- or so her map told her.

"Shit!"

Something was coming up from the horizon.

Was it a band of thieves? Desert muggers? Or merely a desert illusion?

Fantine whipped behind a cactus, still keenly observant, a firm grip on her katana. Muggers were the last thing she wanted.

Thankfully, it wasn't. All there was were two guards and three men, the latter in prison uniforms, chained together, parading through the desert. The dusty twilight rays cast strange glows unto these men's form, so they looked more like animals than any human in blood and flesh.

A boy was trailing behind them, but his pace was shaky, and sweat was poring from his hair and limbs. Yet he insistently followed the group, almost like a natural instinct.

The chain gang stopped near Fantine's cactus. One of the officers said to the other:

"He's been following us halfway by now."

The boy, seeing the group had stopped, seemed to feel a little relieved, and excitement recovered a little of his energy.

"Oy, you," one of the officers called, and threw the boy a water skin. The boy immediately put it to his lips, and drank as would a babe sucking on her mother's bosom.

"Go home, Jean Valjean," the other called as the boy drank. "You've followed us long enough by now. Go home before you die of thirst out here."

The boy stopped drinking abruptly: "Oh, but I wouldn't! As I have told ye gentlemen many times over and over: my father would never steal. I beg you, take him back to Porthos- and don't tell me you can't, either. Artemis, I know YOU are Prince Vlotheron's cousin, and Apollodorus, YOU are second captain of the prince's co-ruler, Lord Beltino's guards. The citizens of Porthos all know your names and titles, so I entreat you, go back and have the prince reconsider his sentence. My father is no thief."

"Well said," thought Fantine. "What a clever little boy." Even though she has no idea what's going on.

"We don't know what you're blabbering about," said the officer. "If you want to live, I think you'd better turn now. Porthos is still near; and if you continue to follow us, we will kill you. You don't have any other family, do you?"

Jean Valjean paused a moment, his eyes lost, for a moment. "Papa," he called out hoarsely.

None of the three men moved.

The two officers put their hands on their sword hilts. "Away, little shit. NOW."

"Here is a grand opportunity now," thought Fantine. "Here I was, complaining of boredom and these two officers are brought before me, almost as if by heaven's will. Here then! Here in the Hamagayen Desert, behind Sandfell the Cactus, I, Fantine, will now heed my duties as a chivalrous bounty hunter. They shall say this is where my blade was first drawn in my holy life."

Under the great, drunken influence of new happy hopes, she stepped out from behind the cactus:

"Good evening, gentlemen."


	2. Chapter II The First Battle

Needless to say the two officers were unpleasantly shocked and at once went into guard stance, naked weapon out. "Who are you?" They cried in unison.

Fantine tried to act very level-headed, like a true bounty hunter. "Who am I? That is the million dollar question, gentlemen! Who am I! Well I'll tell you- I am the daughter of Duke Yeferti Feron Neparosse, granddaughter of Duke Nipomiu Jenson Cervantes, great-granddaughter to General Alexander Zafia and great-great-granddaughter of Sam the Tailor; I am also student of Grand Ninja Odin, who is the thirtieth Clan Leader of the Nightingale Ninja Clan- Fantine."

One officer whispered to the other: "She's definitely been in the sun for too long."

Fantine was wearing a small, shrunken tunic that could barely conceal her lower belly. She also wore a tiger fur skirt and cat skin boots, and carried a knapsack on her back. On her neck clasped a silver collar of beryl and emerald, and her braces were crafted of silver and engraved by serials of odd symbols.

"I hate dumb blonde bitches who kills animals for their fur," remarked one officer. "Humans are really assholes, killing animals just for clothes."

"Excuuuuuuuse me, but I heard that!"

"Alright, you watch 'em, I'll take care of her," sighed his companion, and he stepped forward: "So you're FANTINE, eh? What do you want from us?"

"I am a chivalrous bounty hunter, and I am sole witness to the conflict between you and this boy. I feel like we should hear both sides out, so let me be your judge."

"Coincidentally," her man replied, "there is no such thing as a 'chivalrous' bounty hunter, and even if there was, you have no right to judge us."

"What are you talking about? Of course there are chivalrous bounty hunters, ignorant one. The great Victor Hugo himself was one of the best. Now who are these men, and why are they chained up?"

"Just answer her questions and then move on," muttered one officer. "If she doesn't let us, then He shall have nothing against us if we have to use FORCE."

"Right then," said his friend. "This is Sparke; he is convicted of stealing buttons from the tailor shop. That is Jean Valjean; he is convicted of stealing a loaf of bread from the baker. Lastly, that is Faernand; he is convicted of stealing cheese from the milk maid."

"What is their punishment, that they are to be paraded in the desert in chains?"

"We are bringing them out of the Desert City of Porthos and to the Icarus Sea to drown them."

"No!" Cried Jean Valjean.

Fantine spat: "What the fuck!"

The officer shrugged. "Suit yourself, blondie. We do what our prince commands of us."

"But they only stole cheap stuff! Your prince must be made outta real shit."

"Watch your language! There are things that you do not curse, not when you are in the boundary of our lands! Now move aside."

With a violent tug, the officers urged the chain gang a few steps forward. Jean Valjean desperately tried to lift himself, lift his heavy body so he could move again...

"Argh!"

He suddenly shot up like an arrow and charged forward; but alas, he was weak, one officer turned and knocked him off as easy as pie. They laughed.

Valjean got up again: "No, please, father!"

"That's enough, kid," said Fantine, now cooled down a little. Don't use swear words or let impulse overpower you, she told herself, for I am a chivalrous bounty hunter.

"Officers, regretfully to say, for I am, too, a follower of the Common Law, but if you don't reconsider your actions, chivalrous code shall overpower the law, and I will have to fight you. No authorative man should hit a child, or brush aside the cries of any citizens."

The officers glared at her. The last tinge of civility has faded.

"Fuck off."

"What did you say?"

"We don't mean to be uncivilized to you, but it's the only way we're gonna make it to your fat head. We're doing our jobs. And you're not letting us do it. So fuck off."

Fantine was furious. "Well then, I believe it is clear enough- draw your weapon, if you be men!"

So the men drew their swords, and Fantine put down her knapsack and drew out her katana. "I'll take on the two of you, if you need be," she told them.

"We had no intention of letting you choose your opponent," they retorted, and circled her like wolves circling their prey. Oh, what a fierce battle it was! A strike here, and strike there; Fantine was surrounded, but she has no fear. "The only way I shall be gloried as a chivalrous bounty hunter," she thought, "I must not cringe in spite of danger."


	3. Chapter III Loss

Jean Valjean, seeing that Fantine has distracted the officers, quickly went up to his father, amongst the other two chain gangsters. "Oh papa!" he whispered.

The old man's eyes were wet, not with tears, but fear, as white as his snow-decked beard. He glanced at the officers, still yet putting up with Fantine's katana.

"Papa, please," Valjean pleaded. "Say something."

The old man's red eyelids lowered. He did not speak.

"Say something," cried Valjean.

Meanwhile, over there was the clash of swords, drawing with heightening intensity, surrounding the three battlers. Oh, what lightning! What thunder! Peals of death bells ringing out in their leaden tones. What a fight! What a fight! Can you not hear the winds of swords crashing down, like storms of bladed snow diving in the roaring pillars of brine! The silence, like rests, are ribboned with every glorious sound of smokey battles, and the melody itself is as filling.

And a miss by Fantine's part, the officers quickly struck her down, so that once her head was cleared from stars, she was pulled back into reality.

"Well, to be honest," the officers chorused. "The cunt has some power, but we have two, and so our powers are doubled. Be satisfied, lunatic, that we ain't gonna chain you up and drown ye, or like the ways of gladiators, cut your throat out. Ha, ha! Come then, gang, out of the way."

"Hey, wait-" Valjean cut in front of his father, shielding him, but the officers as easily as before, grabbed him away- "You- can't- do- this-"

There he was thrown into the sand like a pocketful of dust.

Fantine was on her back, cursing the aches of her body. "Fiends! Fiends! Disgraceful bastards! Come back for a second match!"

The chain gang was gone.

Fantine got a few serious cuts here and there, and the one in her waist side was particularly painful. She put her hand on it and scrunched her face in pain as she brushed away the sand that stuck to the open flesh, still bleeding fresh, sticky blood.

She took a deep breath, and thought: "Okay. So maybe I lost- so what? The first battle of a chivalrous bounty hunter doesn't count anyways. It's only the battle AFTER the first that counts. Okay. Okay, steady. The first thing to do is to survive."

She then lifted her head up slightly. "You there, hello?" She called to Valjean, who was lying on the sands.

Valjean didn't move.

The sun is quickly dimming, and there is no water nearby. If there are any cities or villages nearby where they could get water, it's Porthos- and the city gates would be closed by sundown.

During night, deserts were very cold. But that's only a secondary problem. The first problem is that after the battle, Fantine was even more thirsty that before. She almost feels like she had run out of saliva, because her mouth is dry as a dried well. She feels nauseated.

"What if I really do die of thirst?" She thought, and suddenly, at the thought of death, the world became strange. The sun was dripping blood, and the looming cactuses became green monsters, the fickle shadows, moving like demons. She opened her mouth but made no sound. Her vision was blurring. The sun was going down- dark clouds were brewing- no, no...

She didn't want to die in the desert like this...

Something wet dropped on her face. At first she thought it was an illusion. An illusion of the dead.

Then more came down, and made the wonderfully familiar popping sound of- oh, yes, rain! Some dropped on her lips, and by this new heavenly bless did she regain consciousness. The first words that came to mind was: "O, beautiful, beautiful rain!"

She opened her mouth, and let the sweet honeydew nourish the roof, cheek and tongues of her throat. By nature easily excited and restless, she sat up as quickly as her strength would allow, and opened her water skin wide; soon the skin was stuffed with watery contents.

She crawled over the Valjean; the boy was unconscious. Gently, she poured some water down his throat. "Wake up, brat," she cried, but only in delight. Right there, Valjean's eyelids bashed, and he woke.

"What is this place?" He murmured.

"Never mind that," Fantine happily replied. "The important thing is that we're both alive. Can you walk?"

"No."

"A good, frank answer- I like that."

Valjean paused momentarily, then suddenly blurted out: "Papa-" interrupted by fits of coughs.

"Calm yourself," said Fantine, patting his shoulder. "You're in no condition to get excited."

"My- ugh...papa...they're going to drown him- cough...won't you save him?"

Fantine frowned. "Um, kid. They're way ahead of us by now. We can't catch up."

"Please-" he coughed some more, but never taking his eyes off Fantine. "I'm sorry, I can't...I can't talk- but, please, save my father...you're- you're the only one who can..."

"Kid, I can barely walk with my own injuries. Just rest for now, okay? Not only is it impossible to catch up, but if we do, we're only heading into our own deathtrap." Honestly, it was all Fantine ever wished for at the moment to catch up with thoses guys and beat up their asses, but her body was too weak, scorched by both the desert and the battle. She wouldn't make it if she tried.

She touched his cheek: "I tried, I really did. I tried to help you."

He coughed, even more severely than before. Fantine gripped his shoulder gently:

"Don't worry. I'll stick you to the end. We'll go to Porthos tomorrow and demand that your father's name be cleared. I swear it on my honour as a chivalrous bounty hunter!"

Valjean stared at her, and the rain drops still glistening on the ends of her hair, as if searching for something. Then he let out a sigh, and fainted.


	4. Chapter IV Plotting

Two figures, with orange lights to lighten their silhouette, sat together in the meeting room. The shorter said to the taller:

"Lord-"

"No, speak not."

"I fear-"

"Do not fear."

"Our purpose-"

"Secluded well."

The stouter shook his head:

"Nay, if the king catches wind of this..."

His companion took a sip from his steel mug, whilst all the same furrowing his brow in worry's clouds.  
"Porthos is safe and penned. Have they disposed of the men yet?"

"Aye, sir, I've dispatched them tonight. They will come back soon."

The man let out a sigh, crossed his fingers and put his chin on his folded hands. "Good. And make sure something like this never happens again, or else we're both in deep shit."


	5. Chapter V Porthos

Dismal was Valjean when he awoke next early morn, brooding over his father's death. Fantine, who had been sleeping farther off among the rocky pit, woke up to find her wounds healed and her spirit restored. So she comforted Valjean, till the latter grew slightly more content, and the two got ready to depart for Porthos.

It wasn't even a quarter-way there and Valjean's already pretty thirsty, so he asked Fantine to lend him her water skin. The sun was still ascending, and the day was warm and new; it was not yet the hottest part of the day.

"Drink SPARINGLY, now," she instructed him. The water skin is pretty full with last night's rain water, but it still pained her to watch it slowly sag away. When you're a bounty hunter and having a lack of everything you took for granted in life, you start to grow attached to the little wealth you had. At least, that was what she had learned so far.

Valjean finally finished drinking and exasperated a deep, quenching sigh before he licked his wet lips. He gave the skin back to Fantine.

"Now that I think about it," Fantine mumbled as she tucked the water skin away, "it was a pretty close call last night. We could've died of dehydration and there wouldn't have been any water miles around to save us; you, too." She glanced at the boy, walking slowly next to her. "You shouldn't have come out here, into the desert. You're too young to really die.

Valjean bit his bottom lip. "I wouldn't have followed the chain gang out here if there had been ordinary officers responsible for the three men," he replied bitterly. "But Artemis and Apollodorus were special relations to Prince Vlotheron and his uncle, Lord Beltino."

"They're rulers of Porthos, right? So it was them who sentenced your father to his death?"

"Yes. My father was punished without a trial; it was unjust. If either Artemis or Apollodorous had asked the Prince to reconsider his sentence, neither would ve gotten in serious trouble, AND my father might have been given a proper trial."

Fantine shrugged; the heat of the sun was really soaking on her with every step they took. "You're really close to your father, huh?"

The boy said nothing, but simply turned away: "What do you know?"

Both were stuck in an uncomfortable silence, before Valjean spoke up again:

"Look, I really appreciate you coming to Porthos with me, but I really think you can't give much help. Especially since my father s, like, dead right now." Fantine was half mad, in his mind. A chivalrous bounty hunter? What kind of bullshit was that? And how s that bullshit going to help anything? Go back in time and fight the officers again?

"Kid," said Fantine solemnly: "Even if I didn t meet you on this journey, I would ve gone to Porthos anyway. I had some things to do."

For some reason, neither of them wanted to mention Fantine s promise last night. I will help you, she had told him. We'll go to Porthos tomorrow and demand that your father's name be cleared; I swear it on my honour as a chivalrous bounty hunter! None of them wanted to talk about it; yesterday seemed so long ago.

But deep inside, Fantine still felt like she had to keep that promise which she made on impulse. As a bounty hunter, she thought, it is my duty to ensure that justice is carried out through the lands; if Valjean s father was not given a proper trial, it is against the law to sentence the man to death worst comes to worst, he only stole a loaf of bread.

Though her bones were aching terribly, Fantine forgot all the pain as soon as they reached Porthos. It was a marvelous city! Sweet watermelons juiced down to every penny! There were iced yogurt and delicious cheese frosting! Prettily dyed smocks, softly luminescent shells and beads and small purses stitched by the most delicate hand were being displayed in the shops. The flowers, the tiger lilies and the gentle tulips! The desert butterflies bringing spring into the air! Fantine was so fascinated that she forgot about all the aches she had in her body for a few moments, until the heat, the never-ending heat came back to haunt her.

Valjean, on the other hand, was waiting for Fantine to leave him. He was too polite to ask her to do so.

"Okay, Valjean," Fantine said, at last, to the boy. "Where is your Prince?"

"Prince ?" Valjean was confused. What are you...?"

"I meant what I said before; I m going to ask him about your father and how could he let him be sentenced to death without a proper trial."

Valjean groaned. "Just forget about it, okay?"

"No, I won t," answered Fantine, and her face so serious, you d think that she was speaking to God her father on Judgement Day. "It's unrighteous, that s what. I couldn t save him last night. I shall now compensate by seeking the prevalence of justice, like a proper chivalrous bounty hunter."

Valjean realized the seriousness of the problem.

"Please don t go," he begged. "Oh dear God on his holy throne, please don't go. You don't know what the Prince is. He'll kill you, for Christ s sake. He rules Porthos with an iron arm, and only Lord Beltino have some power opposing his. Why won't you listen?"

"Shame on you boy, your father has been slain, and yet you ask for no justice even at the forfeit of his life."

"Argh! Why won t you listen to me? There IS no chivalrous bounty hunter! All bounty hunters want is money, okay? You don t get any money out of this! So why risk your pitiful life for that? If anything, I will go seek the Prince myself, and I won't trust in the likes of you to move the Prince to clear the name of my father!"

"I must, I must; if there be no chivalrous bounty hunters to take up the burdens of justice, who will? The corrupted ministers, the exploitive knights, or the rotten judges? Listen, boy! There is only one occupation on this whole land that stays true and just: chivalrous bounty hunters. We cultivate a healthy lust for wealth, our desires not bended or restraint by morals, thus our virtues are healthily laced with vice, and ten times glorified than any man trapped in his own warriors code."

"I have no idea what you just said, but it sounds retarded. Could you please give up seeking the prince?"

"Stand aside, boy," scoffed Fantine, and dusted Valjean off as easily as she would a feather. "Excuse me, gentleman," she nodded toward a man cladded with black garments, who was perusing a book next to the book stand with keen interest. "Could you please tell me where I can find the Prince of Porthos?"

The man clasped his book shut, and examined Fantine carefully. "I've forgotten a long time ago where the quarters of the Prince lies in this city."

"Please, don't try to remember," said Valjean, suddenly grasping Fantine by her wrist. "It's quite okay."

The man sighed: "No, I can never remember. Man's brains are fickle. I can only trust what is displayed on parchment." With this he produced a city map and pored over its contents, searching for the Prince's quarters. "So what business do you have with the Prince?"

"If you must know," answered Fantine, thinking about the eloquence of a chivalrous bounty hunter, "I got a bone to pick with the pussy."

The man looked at Fantine, oddly this time. "Oh? And what bone is that?"

"Humph! Yesternight I met up with three men, who were sentenced to death without a trial for light crimes. I thought it was unjust and stepped in to persuade the two guarding officers to take the prisoners back, but they listened to me none. Thus, I will have to speak with the dipshit of a Prince myself."

"And...what are you to talk with the Prince?"

Fantine straightened herself with pride. "I am a chivalrous bounty hunter."

Valjean tugged at her arm. "Fantine ! Hsst! Fantine! Please stop talking. Like now."

Fantine laughed. "Nay, boy, I will never cease unless the Prince himself comes to me."

"Well, you can stop talking now," a deep voice boomed behind them. Fantine turned around while Valjean face palmed himself. There was a man, mounted on a fair stallion, with splendid purple robes and polished leather boots. His new lizard skin gloves grasped the bridles of the horse, a thin gold band encircling his head. A train of attendants were close behind him, his cousin Artemis on a handsome black stallion next to his, and Apollodorous close at his heels.

It was Prince Vletheron, no doubt, no doubt.


	6. Chapter VI Prince Vletheron

To make things even more complicated, the man who Fantine asked for directions conveniently informed them: "And I am Lord Beltino."

The streets of the marketplace suddenly became very still. Fantine whistled:

"So you're the Prince, eh? Ruler of Porthos? How much did you hear just then?"

The Prince's attendants, and even Artemis and Apollodorous were shocked to hear Fantine's tone of voice so frivolous. "Speak properly when addressing the Prince," barked Apollodorous. Yet Prince Vletheron quietly ushered him.

"I heard enough," he replied coldly. "So you got a bone to pick with me, who's apparently a pussy and also some dipshit? Then what are you, lady, a bitch without an asshole?"

Artemis and Apollodorous roared with laughter; even some of the attendants smirked. Only Lord Beltino, Fantine and Valjean did not laugh. "Artemis and Apollodorous is here in Porthos," Valjean thought. "They arrived even before we did this morning. My father must be long dead by now! Oh, rest your soul, poor father!"

Fantine shook her head. "Sometimes it's better to be born without an asshole than to be born without sense."

"And it seems that you, lady, are born without either."

"That's enough, Prince," interrupted Lord Beltino before the whole assembly could begin to chuckle. "Be kind to the lady. She's not in her right mind."

"Unfortunately," said Fantine, "I have never been more sober. Prince, I accuse you of carrying out injustice." Here Artemis and Apollodorous winked at each other, and the Prince's attendants began to whisper excitedly, as if they were the audience of an upcoming farcical show.

The Prince lifted his eyebrows. "What injustice is that?"

"That you sent three men to death for undeserving crimes. One was sent without trial, although I am unwary of the circumstances of the other two."

Prince Vletheron smiled.

"Well, I am so very sorry, dear girl. Apollodorous? Artemis? Is it true you've disposed of the chain gang?"

"Yes, sir," answered Artemis. "We did."

Valjean felt like he just lost his insides.

"Well then," The Prince continued, "I give you leave to dispose of this crazy bitch as well. What do you say?"

Apollodorous beamed. "We don't mind beating up her ass a second time."

"Hey, I went easy on you two last night," Fantine spat. "If I had used my powers, you guys would've been dead in ten seconds flat."

Apollodorous patted his round belly. "Ha ha! Yeah right, douchebag!"

Fantine grimaced. "So this is the etiquette of the Prince and his trains? Bravo, bravo! The cheapest whore of any slum would be better disposed than YOU."

Prince Vletheron lost his musing smile, feeling somewhat flared at the crazy woman's words. However, Beltino signaled at him from behind Fantine's back telling him to keep it down, so he held back to urge to slay the woman. "Go now," he commanded. "I don't want you to mention this subject again or I'll really spurn you from Porthos. Come, Artemis, Apollodorous, we have a game to attend to."

With that, the whole group turned and paraded down the streets. Lord Beltino shook his head: "I guess you've said everything that needs to be said to the Prince?" and departed also.

Fantine was grinding her teeth, and her short blonde hair seem to stand up on its roots from the surge of her anger. "That prick! I swear, what will happen to Porthos as long as he is ruling it? What do you say, kid?"

There was nothing but silence. Fantine turned around, when Valjean took a deep breath:

"My father's really dead, isn't he?"

Fantine paused for a moment, unsure of what to say, and stretching the awkwardness further. "I'm sorry," she said at last, "it would appear so."

Valjean dashed his fingers across his eyes hastily, and put his palm on his forehead: "Sorry. I...I just..."

"It's alright," Fantine muttered. "You can cry if you want. I won't say anything."

Tears stung Valjean's eyes as they seethed forth from the cracks between his fingers. He was trying hard to control it, but it seems as though the harder he strained himself, the more tears there were that came. It was really embarrassing shedding tears in broad daylight in the street, but at least nobody was looking...

He inhaled, trying to regain some control. "It isn't right," he stammered. "My father was a good man. Even though...even though fate was cruel to him. He was so kind. I...I don't believe this." He wanted to say more, attempting to fill up his sadness with sounding words, but his throat cracked.

"You really look up to your father, huh?"

Fantine's words came. They were softer than what he's used to. Her voice was always rough and farcical. They shouldn't be so caressing...

She put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go."

He looked up at her, forgetting for a moment his face was stained with tears. "To where?"

"To get ready to get to the bottom of this," said the bounty hunter. She placed a firm grip on her katana's handle.


	7. Chapter VII The Fishiness

There was more reason for Fantine to helping Valjean than just feeling sorry for him. Afterwards she took him to a tavern and questioned him about the chain gang members. It was just like she'd estimated. Old Sparke was simply a worker at his uncle's inn, and possibly was being cheated constantly by the innkeeper; Faernand was a member of the slums, working odd jobs day and night. Valjean's father...

Valjean gave a rather brief account of his father. The old guy used to own an hourglass factory, but it closed down and he's moved city to city with Valjean since then, conditions getting worse and worse with every move. "But I know he would never steal," Valjean insisted. "We're not that desperate yet."

Fantine took a sip of good beer from her mug. "Then it's strange."

"What is?"

"They're all low class shrimps, Sparke, Faernand and your dad. Why would the Prince send them to their death? It's not like he would be likely to hold a grudge against lower class people."

Valjean shrugged. "I don't know, but it's wrong. Maybe they knew something about the Prince? My father said once that high classed people are always snooping for each other's dirty secrets."

"Good thought, but like dude, the Prince must've been real stupid to have let three lower class men gain knowledge of his secret over the past couple of days. No, I don't think that'd work..."

"What if the Prince is just egotistical and likes to send random people to death?"

"That's even less likely. If he wants to send random people to die, he would've just ordered his soldiers to kill people. He wouldn't send people like Artemis and Apollodorous all the way through the desert just to drown three guys. Why does he drown them?"

"More beer, pretty lady?" Smiled the jolly fat bartender from behind his station.

"Thank y- buuuuuuurp! Ahhhhh, that was a good one!" Fantine was glowing when she saw her mug full once more with glorious beer.

"Is it okay for you to drink so much?"

"Don't get jealous, kid, just 'cause you're underage and can't drink...ahhhhh, I love beer! Anyway, what time is it?"

Valjean looked out the window. "The sun is almost setting."

Fantine gave another sickening burp. "Errrr, well, we better get going? Thaaaaaank you, dear bartender."

The bartender grinned like a fool. "Anytime, pretty lady," he replied.

Valjean was glad they were going; he really didn't like the thick tension of the tavern or the boisterous noise, and it looks like some guys are actually getting pretty drunk. But Fantine suddenly changed her mind. "Hey bartender," she called out, in a soprano voice. "I got a few questions for ya. Does anything really weird happen in the town?"

The bartender rolled his eyes. "Isn't this tavern weird enough?"

Three men were dancing on tables while trying to balance jugs of wine on their nose.

"No," replied Fantine. "This is not weird at all."

"Well, nothing exceptionally weird happens in Porthos...except sometimes in summer, we get heaps of snow; odd, since we're in a desert...or the time a fuck nut got drunk and got on his flying mobile and threw down a tantrum of empty beer bottles and everyone thought it was a hailstorm."

"Did the drunk guy get caught?" Asked Valjean.

"No, 'cause he crashed into a chicken house, set it on fire and kind of burned himself to death. Oh wait! Wait, no."

"What is it?" Pressed Fantine.

"Er, well it's not exceptionally weird...but, you know, lately, at night, sometimes you hear this metallic noise coming from the underground." The bartender shrugged as he cleaned another glass. "Felt like the blacksmith is staying up too late. I don't know, a lot of people claims they've heard it at night, but you never know with these things."

Fantine's brows tightened. "Thank you, that was very helpful," she lied. "Come on, Valjean, we better hurry up."

Once they got out of the hot tavern and a blast of fresh, night wind hit Valjean in the face, and felt better. "Where are we going?"

"We're getting out of the city."

"What?"

Valjean stopped dead in his tracks. "You can't be serious! We risked our lives to get out of the desert and now we're getting into it again?"

"Well, too bad. Just think of it like you're moving with your father again, alright? Can't be that bad."

"When my father and I moved, we had a carriage. Besides, my father's- hey!"

Fantine was already turning to the broad main street. "Suit yourself. I've got to-"

Just then, carriage was coming up in the streets, and even though Fantine was right in front of it, it did not slow down; in fact the horseman whipped the horse even harder, so the carriage accelerated.

"Watch out!"

Before the words even came out of Valjean's mouth, it whizzed by, and Fantine had jumped out of its way and safely landed in a curb. If she was one second too late, it would've hit her.

The carriage drove off into the twilight-ish city.

"Holy- holy shit," Fantine panted, her chest heaving up and down, still recovering from the unexpected ambush. "The hell was that?"

"I...I don't know," stammered Valjean, and he, too, was dazed.

Fantine calmed down a bit. "Whatever it is, it's not gonna miss again."

"What do you- wait, don't tell me YOU'RE being targeted too?"

Fantine nodded. "Well, that does it. I'm definitely not staying in the city tonight. Hey, you coming with me or what?"

Looking at Fantine, mixed feelings tumbled in Valjean's heart. He was really not up for following Fantine out into the dangerous desert, not after everything that happened. But, he couldn't help wonder: what exactly is this woman thinking?

Seeing that Valjean is hesitating, Fantine shrugged: "Alrighty then, looks like its gonna be a one-man journey tonight." She started heading for the city gates once more.

"Hey- hey!" Valjean suddenly shouted, and hopped after her. "Don't leave me alone out here! At least tell me where we're going? Hey, slow down!"


End file.
